


Dear Even, if you're reading this then—

by cuteandtwisted



Series: In Every Universe [17]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Even is vulnerable and Isak is the best boyfriend in the world, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, I wrote canon?????, Isak has 21 surprises, Isak makes him look forward to his birthdays again, M/M, They love each other so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-17 23:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13669953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuteandtwisted/pseuds/cuteandtwisted
Summary: "He's totally getting you a puppy," says Mutta."You think?" Even asks.Or Even wonders what Isak is getting him for his birthday this year. Little does he know that Isak is ahead of him in every way. (Spoiler: it's forever)aka Isak leaves him absolutely speechless in their kitchen in the middle of the night.





	Dear Even, if you're reading this then—

**Author's Note:**

> Happy (belated) Birthday to the light of my life <33
> 
> (I wasn't going to post this because his birthday is over and I failed to get this out on time but some of you asked so here it is <3)
> 
> warning: mention of Even's SA, body issues

(It starts on his twenty-first birthday—technically on his twentieth, Isak will later say—while both anticipation and fear curled at his stomach.)

Even has been wondering what Isak got him this year, and he’s both elated and terrified. Elated because he still can’t believe someone cares about him enough to plan an entire day full of surprises for _him,_ just him. And terrified because surprises scare him a bit, because it feels as though he’s giving up control, like he’s no longer directing his own life.

Somehow, he convinces himself that Isak is getting them a puppy for his twenty-first birthday. And he isn’t sure when the thought went from being a silly plausibility to cementing itself as a conviction in his head. Perhaps it was when Mutta mentioned that Isak asked him a few questions about having a dog. Or perhaps it was when Isak asked Even if he ever had one and if he was allergic to them.

Even isn’t sure why but he is convinced they’re getting a puppy. He even looks up surprise videos online to study people’s reactions and make his sound as genuine and happy as possible.

And it’s not that he doesn’t want one. He does and he can already picture the three of them in bed early in the morning. But he can’t help but feel scared and unsure. What if he’s down and Isak is busy with school and there’s no one to take care of the dog? What if he can’t do it? The fear of disappointing Isak is already crippling enough. The idea of letting down another being renders him listless.

_Dogs don’t experience emotions like disappointment. Don’t be silly._

Even goes to bed on February eleventh convinced that he’s getting a puppy the following day. Or perhaps at midnight. Isak has insisted that they go to bed early. He’s probably going to wake him around midnight. Even is giddy with it.

He sleeps.

.

Isak wakes him with a kiss to the temple and Even smiles into the duvet—their duvet. He keeps his eyes closed, pretends he’s still sleeping. But he knows that Isak can tell that he’s here with him from the rise and fall of his chest alone.

They both know. Yet they both indulge. Even keeps his eyes closed, doing his very best to keep his smile a secret. And Isak keeps pressing kisses to his temple and now his cheek. It’s tender. It’s sweet. It’s perfect.

Any other day, Isak would groan—maybe whine—and demand attention, but not today. Today, he is patient. Today, he is tender and patient and his lips trace the side of Even’s face like he has an elaborate plan later that demands these ministrations. Even indulges.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Isak whispers in his ear and it sends shivers down his spine. It’s sweet like honey.

Even cracks an eye open, eventually, still smiling, perhaps embarrassingly so. It’s still dark outside, but he’s surprised to see that it’s actually morning and that Isak hasn’t pulled this stunt earlier at midnight.

Isak seems to have read his mind, for he smiles down at him and tilts his head to the side. “So how’s surprise number one, huh?”

“You woke up by yourself! Consider me surprised,” Even murmurs and his voice is hoarse with sleep.  

“And without an alarm, too,” Isak beams down at him.

Even makes a low strangled noise. His brain is too foggy with sleep and his tongue is heavy in his mouth. It’s too early for banter, he decides. He stretches slowly, both arms leaving the duvet almost hesitantly. He’s always cold in the morning, especially when he sleeps naked and Isak leaves their bed before him.

He’s midway through his stretching session—both arms spread out as wide as possible over his head, feeling his muscles clench and unclench, filling him with pure content—when Isak’s chest presses down against his own, both arms coming up to wrap around Even’s back. He’s hugging him, Even realizes when he’s finished yawning. Isak is cuddling him first thing in the morning.

They stay like that for a moment, not really talking, just breathing each other in, with Isak burrowing deeper into his neck, holding him and pressing little kisses right below his ear, which Even eventually starts returning to his temple, his hair, whatever he can reach. These kisses might as well be his favorite. The ones that make no sense but that he aches to give anyway.

Sometime later, their cuddling turns into actual kissing, morning breath and toothpaste and all, with Isak opening his mouth like he doesn’t know how to use it and Even laughing at his fervor and eagerness.

He laughs, but Isak doesn’t. Isak kisses him like he’s aching to tell him a secret. And for a second, Even wonders if he wants to have sex before going to school, if he wants them to try something wild and risky.

Isak doesn’t. He pulls back, pupils blown, hair a mess, cheeks flushed. He’s beautiful as ever, and Even cups his left cheek with his right hand and leaves his thumb right where a dimple would form if he smiles.  

“Hi,” Even says and it’s a whisper. He’s smiling with Isak hovering over him.

“Hi,” Isak smiles back, and there it is, the dimple. Even brushes his thumb against it. He loves it so much.

“You taste like toothpaste.”

“And now so do you.”

Even realizes then that Isak is already dressed for school and that he’s been up for a while before he woke him up. There’s something awfully domestic about them in bed right now, and Even’s heart pinches.

“Happy birthday, Even,” Isak says again, his thumb brushing over Even’s eyebrow and his eyes sparkling.

“Thank you, baby.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“For being born?” Even teases, and he’s still thumbing Isak’s cheek. “You should probably be proud of my mom. She did most of the work.”

“No,” Isak shakes his head and he’s serious through it all. “For being here today.”

It’s bittersweet and Even can’t help but feel a little bit proud of himself, too. December wasn’t the best month, never is really. They say that the body and the mind are conditioned to remember how certain periods of times felt. And his body and mind do remember December and what followed. The darkness, both of his mind and of the sky itself, do not help either. 

January has been spent mostly trying to get to this perfect moment right here, to muster up enough strength and self-love to smile through this, to accept this and not question it, this unwavering love and devotion.

January has been spent trying to get back to this, to _him,_ his boy.

“I’m here,” Even says and he means it. He runs his fingers through Isak’s short hair—and he’s still trying to get used to it. He misses the curls. But hair is hair. And every version of Isak is just as breathtaking—and smiles big and wide. “I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.”

They hug again as Even repeats the words and Isak holds him closer this time. Even wants to pat himself on the back for making it, yet again, for not ruining _this_ day, for being able to give Isak _this,_ for being able to give _himself_ this.

Today is a good day. Today is a wonderful day.

.

“You made breakfast?!” Even gapes at their kitchen table and he wonders how the smell hasn’t woken him up.

“Yup.” Isak is smug and proud. “I didn’t know what you wanted. So I made everything.”

That makes Even smile. And when their eyes lock, they beam at each other.

“I said those words to you once,” he says.

“I know. I watched the film.”

“You watched Pretty Woman?!” Even gasps as he sits down in front of the small cupcake with an unlit candle.

“I had to,” Isak shrugs. “It’s your favorite love story of all time after all.”

“Second favorite,” he corrects.

“Right. My bad,” Isak rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. “Forgot about the horrors of Romeo and Juliet.”

Even laughs, and although Isak is still mistaken, he doesn’t correct him this time around. “When did you even watch it? I would have noticed.”

“Watched it at Jonas’ last week,” Isak explains with an exaggerated sigh. “Big mistake! He spent hours later talking about how Hollywood likes to romanticize prostitution for general consumption but without actually tapping into how all sex workers are human, not just the ones that look like Julia Roberts.”

Even laughs because it does sound like Jonas. He wishes he could have watched it with Isak but he doesn’t mind. Perhaps he’ll make him re-watch it later. It’s his birthday after all. Isak wouldn’t say no.

“So was that surprise number two?” Even asks.

“Three,” says Isak. “Two was not burning breakfast.”

.

By the time it's light outside, Even’s stomach is full, he has managed not to choke on a partial egg shell that made it to his omelette, and he’s now being pushed onto his back in bed.

“You’re gonna be late for school,” he says but he’s laughing, and Isak is laughing above him too. He’s straddling his legs and Even’s chest is heaving with anticipation.

“Surprise number four: give you a blowjob without undressing or having to change my clothes.”

“You should probably get a towel or tissue then.”

“A towel? Tissue?” Isak scoffs, as if he’s been disrespected. “I’m gonna use my mouth, Even. I won’t waste a drop. We don’t need towels.”

“You-” Even pauses because he has no words.

“Me," he grins. "What about me?” 

.

Isak is not late for school, surprisingly. He texts Isak about that, and they both decide to make it surprise number five. It’s a little bit silly but Even would take silly over dull any day.

Isak texts him a nude picture of himself—which looks like it’s been taken that same morning before he woke up—around the time he leaves the apartment for work. He chokes on air as he bumps into one of their neighbors in the hallway, the neighbor that always complains of their sexcapades and leaves them anonymous notes on the door.

* * *

  **Mannen i mitt liv**

11:34

Guess who I just bumped into

Even... I just sent you nudes

Guess who else just kinda saw your nudes

?  
Oh god  
No  
Not the dog lady down the hall

The dog lady down the hall

Fuck  
She’s gonna think i’m a freak now. Great

Baby you are a freak <3

Shut up <3  
Only for you

Is surprise 7 going to be as spicy as surprise 6?

You haven’t even said anything about #6

Gave me a boner bby

My time of birth gives you a boner

Isak i’m on the tram. Don’t do this to me

Haha. ok see you later then  
Going to class :)

* * *

Even smiles at his phone then hops off the tram and heads to work.

And he should have seen it coming, really.

_Yet._

Isak greets him with cake and flowers— _flowers! sunflowers!—_ pressed between his elbow and his chest because he’s using his hand to film the scene on his phone. All his co-workers at KB are singing him Happy Birthday and it’s a bit embarrassing but Even doesn’t care. He claps along, and smiles until his cheeks hurt, and blows the candles until smoke fills his nostrils. He is happy. And when Isak asks him if he’s made a wish, he lies and says yes.

“You ditched class,” Even complains when Isak is finally returned to him after he’s taken it upon himself to clean the counter and put away the plastic plates used for his cake.

“I did.”

“You promised you would go to class,” Even pouts.

“I promised I would go. Never said anything about staying the whole day,” Isak raises his eyebrows and smiles, and Even has to pull him into a kiss.

It’s sweet. They both taste like chocolate cake and Even has both thumbs on Isak’s dimples. He’s still taller than him, but he feels smaller sometimes. He feels vulnerable, frail, weak. He’s lost some weight since December. He’s been losing it for a while now while Isak’s been consistently building muscle and growing stronger and bigger.

Even knows that Isak can tell as well, the shift in their equilibrium, not just in their appearances but also in how their bodies react to one another. Long gone are the days when he could crowd him into a corner and feel him fall apart against his fingertips. Long gone are the days.

Isak makes him eat protein now, but he never says anything about the weight. He just says that it tastes great and that Even should try it. He takes care of him but does his best not to make him grow self-conscious.

Isak doesn’t have to say it, however, because their friends comment on it quite constantly. Most joke about it, turn it into a small talk topic. But Sana and Jonas and Elias don’t. They ask him if he’s eating and he assures them that he is. He’s just a bit tired. “Why don’t you join Isak in his workouts?”. He smiles. “Someone has to iron the clothes and do laundry,” he replies.

Magnus says something about how Isak is about to grow taller than him and how Even looks like the younger one now, like ‘the woman in the relationship’ now. And Even forces a smile and jokes about how he’s always been ‘the woman in their relationship’ before moving to the next topic.

Sometimes Even feels ashamed of his own body, especially when he sees how Isak takes such good care of his now. Sometimes he can’t help but feel like he has trapped Isak, like he has tricked him into being with him right before he reached his full potential and grown from a shy boy into the man he is now. And he knows that Isak would hate these thoughts if he were to share them with him. But sometimes, Even can’t help but feel like Isak deserves better than _this,_ better than _him._

“Are you gonna head back to class?” Even asks after they’ve kissed and his manager at KB tells him to take the day off.

“Of course not,” Isak laughs. “I didn’t beg your manager to let you go so that I could go back to fucking Physics class.”

“So what are we doing?” Even smiles, his arms clutching the sunflowers like they’re the best present he’s ever gotten.

“We’re gonna watch that pompous movie you’ve been wanting to watch.”

“Huh?”

“The one that’s like Twilight but with a fish instead of a vampire,” Isak explains as he clasps Even’s free hand into his own and begins strolling down the street.

“What? You mean the Shape of Water?”

“Yes. That one, I guess,” Isak shrugs. 

“It doesn’t come out in Oslo until February 23rd.”

“Yeah, we’re watching it home,” Isak says then turns to look at Even.

“Uh, how?”

“I downloaded an illegal copy,” Isak shrugs.

“You did what?!”

“Whatever, Even. It’s not my fault the universe didn’t cooperate by releasing this movie earlier,” Isak looks away but his cheeks are flushed. Eskild had once made fun of him for actually paying to rent movies online.

“Full of surprises. Aren’t you?”

“That was number eight,” Isak smiles then presses a kiss to his mouth.

He makes Isak promise him that they’ll go rewatch it once it comes out so that they can support the film. Then they pick up pizza and head home around 14:00.

.

“That was beautiful,” Even sighs as the credits roll.

“She fucked a fish,” Isak says beside him, his eyes wide.

“He wasn’t a fish. He was a God!”

“He was a fish, Even. Oh my god. And his dick is like inside him?”

“Is that all you got from the movie?” Even laughs because of course Isak is worried about anatomy.

They laugh. Then they roll around bed. Then they’re kissing. And then they’re hugging. Then Even feels the lump in his throat because he doesn’t deserve any of this. He doesn’t deserve him. And he doesn’t know how he’s managed to get him and he aches with it. The burn. The fears. The voices in his head. He wishes he could tame them. _He’s going to leave you one day and it will break you._

Even falls asleep around 16:00 while Isak reads him his favorite book—surprise number nine—and when he comes to, he’s in tears and Isak is asleep beside him.

He wakes him up, shakes him, makes him open his eyes big and wide.

“Even, what’s wrong?!”

Even hugs him and closes his eyes. He’s shaking. He’s shaking with it, the fear.

“Bad dream, baby?” Isak murmurs against his neck as he wraps both arms around his back.

“The worst.”

“Did I die or something?” Isak jokes, and when Even doesn’t reply, he holds him tighter. “I will never die. I’m a God, remember?”

“A god,” Even laughs but he’s still shaking. “Like the fish from the movie?”

“No. God. No! I would never tuck my dick.”

They laugh. Isak is here, here, here. Everything is okay.

And the truth is that Isak didn’t die in Even’s dream. Isak simply didn’t exist. He was stuck in a world in which Isak wasn’t in his life, in which he asked people for him everywhere he went, but nobody seemed to know who Isak was.

An Even without an Isak.

_How is that guy spending his 21st birthday?_

.

Even should have known when Isak dragged him to Chris Berg’s house to “borrow her notes”. Yet, like with everything else today, he hasn’t been able to pay attention, too busy tending to a wound that’s threatening to open itself at the bottom of his heart.

“Surprise!”

Everyone is here. All of Isak’s friends, who are all his own, and all of his Bakka friends. Even Sonja is here, and Even’s heart feels full. There’s champagne and more cake and balloons and hugs and love, so much love.

He holds conversations with almost everyone. It’s odd but it’s the most private conversation he’s had with Mikael in years. It’s fragile, however. And it’s harder given the timing, given how the snow and the chill and the sky remind him of what happened two years ago.

“Thank you for coming,” Even says.

“Of course, Even. Anything for you.”

It’s awkward and Even is sure a slightly more drunk Isak would probably lunge at Mikael again if he hears him utter those words. Yet Even persists. He doesn’t move away. His therapist said that confronting his fears and talking about his feelings is the best way to move on. But Mikael beats him to it.

“I’m so sorry, Even,” he mumbles and Even can tell he’s nervous. “For everything.”

He’s already apologized before when they first started talking again. He’s apologized countless times already. And Even has, too. Yet this feels different. It’s February around his birthday. It feels different. It was around this time that he—

Even closes his eyes. It feels too real.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry, too.”

“For what it’s worth. I’m so happy you’re happy. I’m glad you’re doing so great. And I’m glad you—” Mikael pauses, then stops altogether. Even knows what he wanted to say.

_‘I’m so glad you survived.’_

_Me too._

_._

“No offense, bro. But I’m so glad it’s finally your birthday,” Jonas tells him when it’s just the two of them.

“Hm?”

“Isak has been stressing out for weeks. He’s even worse with condiments than you.”

“What can I say? We really value Ketchup and Mustard,” Even chuckles.

“He was going to pop a vein if one of us was late,” Jonas sighs. “Anyway, it’s over. Thank god!”

They stay silent a bit, both of them watching Isak in the distance. He’s in a heated conversation with Mutta, of all people. They both laugh.

“Here,” Jonas finally says as he hands him a piece of paper.

“What is this?”

“A letter.”

“Huh? From who?”

“From Isak,” says Jonas.

Even looks at him, puzzled. Why would Isak ask Jonas to hand him a letter?

“He wrote it a year ago. He asked me to give it to you today.”

. 

 

> _Dear Even,_
> 
> _If you’re reading this, then you’ve probably just turned twenty-one. It’s Isak. Or Isak from the past if it works and Jonas remembers to give you this letter on your birthday. I don’t know where we will be next year (or in this case, where we are) but I know we’re together. You — or at least you from the past — are currently sleeping in my bed. We’re in Kollektivet. You’re wearing my favorite sweater and I just covered you with two duvets. You’re cold tonight. You need layers tonight because you’re not feeling great. You’re always cold when you’re down. And it’s okay, because I love taking care of you just like you love taking care of me._
> 
> _You’ve just told me about what happened at Bakka last year around your birthday, and you cried, and baby you broke my heart. I’ve never seen you cry. And I don’t know what I’ll do next time, but I’ll do better. I promise. You looked so shocked by your own tears, like you didn’t actually think you would cry, or like you were finally processing what happened. And then you gave me your usual speech about how I deserve better, and how I should run away while I can, and how you’re gonna hurt me. I waited until you were done. Then I kissed you and watched you fall asleep._
> 
> _I just spent the past hour thinking about a world in which I don’t meet you, a world in which your attempt at ending your life succeeded before our paths got to cross. And I’m scared. Not for myself but for the Isak who never got to meet you. What would I say to that Isak? People always ask “What would you tell your younger self?” but here I am trying to communicate with my parallel universe self. Fucked up, right?_
> 
> _But then somehow this idea came to me, I could write to future-you. I know it makes no sense, but in my head, it does right now. Because you said that we can talk about it later, but I want you to know how I feel right now, as someone who’s just heard your story barely an hour ago._
> 
> _So here’s what I think, Even: I’m going to ask you to move in with me next week. That’s how confident I am in this, in you, in us. And I hope you say yes. I hope that you’re reading this in our apartment in the future right now. And I hope we’re celebrating your birthday in the future right now. I hope you say yes <3\. _
> 
> _And if you don’t, it’s okay. Everything is always going to be okay._
> 
> _I love you so much._
> 
> _Isak._

.

They walk home together, fingers laced, neither of them wearing gloves because they both like it better when it’s flesh against flesh. Even is still struggling to find words to mention the letter to Isak, and he doesn’t have any. He’s flustered and he can’t believe him. This boy. Writing him letters from the past. It’s cheesy. It’s almost scary.

The streets are empty and snow is falling softly around them. He can tell from Isak’s silence that he’s nervous, that he’s trying to gauge for Even’s feelings, that he’s trying to read him.

“I don’t even remember what I wrote,” Isak sighs in defeat a few minutes later. Jonas must have told him that he gave Even the letter.

“You said you hoped I was reading it in our apartment,” Even says and it’s quiet.

“I was young and naive. I thought we’d be able to afford an apartment large enough to host your birthday p—”

Even cuts him off with a bruising kiss. It’s the kind of kiss they haven’t shared in a while. It’s hungry and messy and rough and full of feelings and wonder and hurt and love, so much love. It’s dizzying how responsive Isak is, how he shows no hesitancy at all, like he knew Even would do this, like his chest is burning with the same unquenchable fire, the same overwhelming urge to consume everything in its way.

Even backs him up against a wall and lifts both of his arms up, lacing their fingers together and keeping them there over Isak’s head as they kiss and pant into each other’s mouths. It’s obscene, what they’re doing in the middle of the street. But he doesn’t care. The cold air is now hot, and Isak’s cheeks are flushed and he’s panting. It’s perfect.

“I love you,” Even says and it’s broken and so sincere, it breaks them both. “So much, baby. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

_How much it means to me that even after you found out just how weak and broken and disgusting I was, you still wanted me._

“I would have told you back then if you had let me,” Isak blurts out and he’s still panting.

“You’re such a nerd.”

“God. I know,” Isak laments.

He kisses him again and it’s hungry. He wants to take him home and make him chant his name but he remembers dinner at his parents. _Fuck._

“Can we skip my parents at 18:30?”

“No, we can’t,” Isak smiles.

“But—”

“You got nine hours of sleep. You can do this.”

“So that’s why you made me go to bed early.”

.

They both wear their best dress shirts, and Even is sure his pants are ruined because Isak keeps playing footsie under the table and running his shoes up and down Even’s calf. Only Isak would insist on such deeds in front of his parents but also refuse to take off his shoe.

Dinner goes by rather quickly. His mother only cries twice and his father gives him a watch he got from _his_ father when he was twenty-one. Even doesn’t cry, but he gets close.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, the lump in his throat giving his feelings away.

“We love you,” his parents repeat over and over again.

“I love you, too.”

He watches Isak tear up next to him and it’s surreal how loved he feels right now.

On their way back, Isak hands him the big envelope he’s been carrying around all day and Even raises an eyebrow.

“Surprise number nineteen,” Isak says.

“Huh?”

“Open it.”

It’s drawings, his own drawings and sketches and paintings, all organized in a way that tells a story. Even knows this disposition and this order and this story because he’s shared it with Isak once. They had been in bed talking about how Even would present his work if he ever makes enough money for a gallery. And Isak memorized it all.

“What is this?”

“There’s a Portfolio competition at the Art school you’ve been meaning to apply to,” Isak says and he looks nervous.

“Uh?”

“I think you should submit your portfolio. I think we can go drop it off at a mail drop-off location right now. The envelope has enough postage and all, and I made sure to fill out the basic application and organize your work and make copies. All you have to do is drop it off.”

Even stares at him for a while. He has no words.

“Isak-”

“I know you don’t believe in yourself very much. So this is me telling you that you should and that your art matters and that I will be devastated if you don’t at least try. And while if this were a movie, I would have mailed it without consulting you, we’re not in a movie. And I respect you and your free-will too much to make decisions _for_ you.”

_You are wrong. Romeo and Juliet isn't my favorite love story. Us, you and me. We are my favorite love story._

“Consider it your birthday gift to yourself, baby.”

Even mails the envelope.

.

They stumble into their apartment before 21:00 and laugh when they bump into Dog Lady from down the hall. For a moment, he wonders about their hypothetical dog. Where is he? Is Isak even getting him a dog?

Even’s thoughts are interrupted when Isak shoves his tongue into his mouth. It’s overwhelming, dizzying. He feels like a rug was swept from under his feet. He can’t keep up, until he can. By the time they reach the kitchen, they’re both desperate with want and desire and lust. They’re both panting with open mouths and hooded eyes.

Even decides that Isak must have heard his conversation with Magnus about how Even’s new hair makes him look like “the passive one in the relationship now”. Because when they reach their bed, Isak asks him to _‘fuck him deep and hard’,_ to claim him, to take him, to make him feel good.

Even’s head is spinning at his choice of words, at the urgency of the request. Isak looks seventeen and wild and carefree again. He doesn’t look like the boy who’s been taking care of him these past couple of months. The boy who’s been in control lately—the same way he is every time Even is emerging from one of his downs. The boy who’s taken him apart just that past week.

Last week. They hadn’t had sex in over a month. And Even wanted him, wanted to feel him, wanted to be there with _him._ So bad, he wanted it so bad. But he was still vulnerable, still exposed, still paper thin. He still slept with a hoodie and two blankets. He wanted to be held. He wanted to be held by _him,_ but in a more intimate way than cuddling with their clothes on. He wanted to feel _him._  He wanted to be filled _by_ and _with_ him. He wanted Isak to fill the void in him, in his heart, in his mind, in his body, in his soul. He didn’t want to think anymore. He didn’t want to drown anymore.

“Make it stop,” he had asked Isak that night. “I don’t want to think anymore.”

And Isak had made it stop. Even still remembers when Isak pressed his palm flat against his back, between his shoulder blades, while panting into the back of his neck and pressing kisses there. He still remembers what it felt like, to be _filled_ by him, to not think, to lie on his stomach and not think for a while. He still remembers what it felt like to have him so deep inside him, like they were one entity, like they had merged far beyond the physical realm. Even remembers seeing stars. He does.

“I forget everything when you make love to me like that,” Even had whispered later when they were face to face again and Isak had pressed kissed to his eyelids while holding his face.

“Then forget everything, baby.”

And Even wants to give Isak that as well. Because he knows how hard these past few months have been on him. How Isak probably doesn’t want to think either. How Isak probably wants to forget a little bit, too. He wants to. He’s aching to. And despite the initial awkwardness and clumsiness, he finds himself between Isak’s legs, honoring his request.

They make love.

Even makes love to him deep and slow, and he’s relieved to see that he’s still got it, that he can still make Isak fall apart under his touch and throw his head backwards and beg for more. He’s still got it. And it’s slow yet so intense.

“I’m here,” he says into shoulder and he’s not sure what he means. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

He kisses him there and it’s wet, like the sounds they’re making, flesh against flesh, the walls echoing, the bed creaking. He expects a note from the lady down the hall in the morning.

“You’re here,” Isak moans under him, both legs locked tight around his waist, but the words are heavy. “You’re here, you’re here, you’re here. My baby.”

Isak looks wrecked. He looks exhausted. He looks full. He looks like he’s not thinking, for once. Like he’s lost in it, in this, in them. He’s letting go. And Even loves him. Loves him so much, his heart is about to burst with it.

They kiss until Isak’s little moans start again and it feels like he’s splitting in half but he knows he’s putting him back together.

That night, they make love, and love, and love.

And when they come down, they hold each other and cry until they both fall asleep.

.

Even wakes up sometime before midnight and Isak is no longer in his arms. He grabs a blanket and wraps it around himself to look for him, and he finds him at the kitchen table, both brows furrowed in concentration as he writes something on several pieces of paper.

“What are you doing?” Even muses, resting his shoulder against the doorframe.

“Uh, shit!” Isak mutters and starts putting his papers away, a blush on his cheeks.

_Oh. Is he writing me something?_

“I’m just doing homework,” Isak lies and he looks remorseful.

“Come back to bed.”

“You have to sleep early anyway,” Isak argues.

“Not tonight. I can stay up until Midnight on my own birthday. No?”

Isak comes back to bed, and they cuddle, and Even admits that he didn’t make a wish despite the four birthday cakes he’s had today.

“Why not?” Isak asks.

“Because I don’t think I deserve it. I have so much already. I don’t even deserve what I currently have.”

“That’s the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You know, I thought you were getting me a dog,” says Even.

“You want one?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay,” Isak smiles. “It will be gift number 22 for your twenty-second birthday, then.”

“You’re worse than me,” Even snorts.

“You almost made all my friends hate me on my birthday last year.”

.

Later that night, Even wakes up to go to the bathroom and Isak is asleep and soft beside him. He pets his cheek for a while, runs his thumb over his eyebrow and watches him purr like a kitten in his sleep. He kisses his hair then tiptoes to the kitchen naked to get a glass of water.

He bumps against the table by the corner and a piece of paper falls onto the floor. Even picks it up hesitantly and his heart drumming in his chest.

He knows that he shouldn’t read it, that it’s Isak’s and that Isak wouldn’t approve of him going through his writings. He knows better than to check if his suspicions are correct, if eighteen year old Isak is currently writing to twenty-two year old Even. He knows that he shouldn’t check, that he’ll find out next year anyways.

But he needs to know. He just needs a quick look. Just one sentence. He needs to know if Isak is still sure of _this,_ of _them._ He needs to know if Isak still wants him even after a long and daunting depressive episode. He needs to know if he’s still so sure of _them_ that he knows for a fact that he will still want him a year from now. He needs to know if Isak thinks he’s going to make it to twenty-two in the first place. He needs to know if Isak thinks he’s strong enough to place his faith and fate in him. He needs to know if Isak thinks he’s strong enough.

And if he doesn’t, then that’s okay as well. And if it’s actually just homework, then that’s okay as well.

Isak wrote on several pieces of paper earlier after all. It’s probably not what he thinks. Yet he wonders. He just needs to know.

Just a glance. Just one sentence.

_Do you think I’ll be here on my twenty-second birthday? Do you still want to be with me a year from now? Do you think I’ll still be around to celebrate it?_

. 

 

> _Dear Even,_
> 
> _If you’re reading this, you’ve probably just turned twenty-five. Do I get into medical school? Wait, don’t answer that. Don’t tell me. I still haven’t figured that out. And you’ve probably guessed it by now: this is 18 year old Isak speaking. Don’t give 21 year old me shit after reading this if I don’t get into med school. Also—_

.

Even stops reading, places the paper on the table, and goes back to bed.

Next year, he's going to make a wish.

Next year, he’s going to make it to twenty-two, then to twenty-five, then to every year after that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> <333333  
> hope you liked this. i always feel extremely self-conscious about writing canon. jhfhjsklkd i'm sorry i posted it so late. I was absolutely drained. I could not finish it yesterday. I wasn't even going to but some of you were so sweet. I had to post it.
> 
> I've always HC'd that Even's SA took place around his birthday. I'm not sure why. I really wanted to explore how tough it could be for Even to celebrate his birthday and his life in general with other people, especially with the knowledge that he's once tried to end it. How do you deal with the ambivalence? With the contradiction? How do other people feel about it? Celebrating your life when they know you once valued it so little that you tried to end it. 
> 
> I wanted to explore how much it means to Isak as well. He could claim his boyfriend to himself all day. BUt I'm sure he'll want him to be celebrated by exactly EVERYONE around him. That he'll want Even to feel LOVED by everybody, not just him. So this happened <3
> 
> let me know if you liked it or if you felt something, anything <33333
> 
> Even has taught me SO MUCH. What has he taught you?
> 
> Love you, always. <33333


End file.
